One in a Million Faces
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: What if the Doctor saw a face in an advert, while searching for Clara, and decided to visit her to see if it was her. (Written off a short video created by Tumblr user Ladysigh.)


'The Impossible Girl' perfume fragrance ad. The Doctor runs across the ad while searching out Clara Oswald and tries to find the model.

At first he smiles, just seeing her face up on a billboard, because he misses it; that quirky little way she smiles, like she's got some secret she's not telling him. He stares at her a moment with a grin of his own, remembering the teasing way she'd roused him up both times he'd met her and how much he'd love to show up at her doorstep just to see the look on her face.

The Doctor imagines Clara would be amused.

"_Ah, see you've finally shown up_," he can already hear her saying, one hand on her hip, lips pursed together to try and hide the smugness in her words as she waits for him to explain away the time apart.

Of course, that's when it dawns on him – she's not simply 'The Impossible Girl' the fragrance advertises to; the woman a man can't rid his mind of, months after they meet; the woman a man can't rid his dreams of despite how hard he tries; the woman the Doctor can't simply let be _the impossible girl_ that she is. And that's when he stares up at the image of her face with a sort of realization.

_This_ woman could be _that_ woman.

A pretty face, plucked from the crowd, to be admired by young girls and grown women alike. A model he could search out in his records and visit just to ask, just to contain his excitement as he uttered quickly, "_Clara Oswin Oswald_?"

Because he hopes she'd remember him.

He doesn't quite know how the universe works, but he knows he's met her twice before and each time she's had no knowledge as to who he was, but both times they'd been drawn to one another so maybe… _maybe_ there was a Clara floating amongst the stars who would look into his face with a recognition and a smile just for him and she'd join him in his box for an adventure.

Of course it wouldn't go that way, and he finds himself standing hunched with one hand on his eyes as the other flailed about in front of him while he shouts, "Not hurting! _Not wanting to hurt_! Just wanting to talk! Please, Clara!"

"_That's not my name_!" She screams in response, but he can't help noticing she hasn't moved from the spot, just a few feet away, can of pepper spray held tightly in her right hand as she clutches a red backpack with her left.

The sting in his eyes prevents him from seeing her clearly when he finally looks in her direction again as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other, but he'd seen her coherently enough when she'd emerged from the apartment complex to know it was her face. Her wide beautiful eyes and her thick dark hair, curling slightly at the shoulders, and that ridiculous nose he had the urge to poke.

This Clara wore a pair of tights, covered over by a large grey sweater, and trainers, and he imagines she'd been on her way to the gym. He smiles at the thought of her on a treadmill, working feverishly to maintain the dainty figure he tried so hard to wipe from his memory.

"Cla…" he begins, taking a step away to try and show his innocence. "I saw your face on an advert."

Her brow drops and he knows she's thinking he's some sort of stalker, and in a way he sort of is, and he laughs as she adjusts the grip on her backpack and glances up and down the quiet street before nodding to tell him, "Lots of blokes see that ad, doesn't mean I'm public property."

With a nod, the Doctor straightened and rubs lightly at his eyes, wincing and seeing her do the same just a few feet away as he explains, "I'm sorry; you just resemble…" he trails, head hanging, "You look like someone I used to know."

She smiles then, fleeting and accompanied by the smallest of giggles, before allowing, "Yeah, get that a lot; can't visit Lancashire without hearing it ten times."

Nodding shortly, the Doctor turns away and just as he does, a car comes barreling towards him and for an instance he thinks to himself, "_How lovely, thousands of years chased by every villain in the universe and I'm going out via a collision with an automobile in Cardiff_," but he feels a rough tug of his tweed coat and he tumbles backwards onto the sidewalk behind him.

The woman next to him, now wincing and standing to brush off her own backside, offers him a wry grin that pains his heart as she tells him, "Makes up for the mace then, eh?"

"Quite does," he mutters in response and he notices that she hasn't moved again. She's still looking to him, this time without fear, but with a sad curiosity. When he looks up into her eyes, they carry a sympathy that makes him look away because they're her eyes – but this isn't her. "What is it?" He finally asks on a light laugh, sitting up and bringing himself back to his feet with a groan.

The woman tells him quickly, "I'm Charlotte," then she tilts her head and corrects, "_Charlie, really_ – whole life, _Charlie_." Then she waits until he meets her eye again and she adds with a nod, "Not the Clara you're looking for."

He smiles because she says it like an apology, slinging her backpack onto her shoulders and picking up the pepper spray that's lying in the gutter. With a slow nod, the Doctor looks back up the street as she clears her throat and he feels her tapping something at his elbow, turning to see the Sonic in her grasp. He takes it with a quiet appreciation, settling it back into his breast pocket as she begins to jog away.

"Mister," she calls, twisting and running in place, and when he turns she shrugs with a grin as she finishes, "I hope you find her," and waves.

He chuckles at the familiar words and begins his walk back to the Tardis.


End file.
